


The Yolks on You!

by mrua7



Series: Easter Season  U.N.C.L.E. Stories [3]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Easter, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:15:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/pseuds/mrua7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya and Napoleon volunteer to help out the Bowery Mission for the Easter</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Yolks on You!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Avery11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avery11/gifts).



> This was originally posted for the Easter Egg challenge on MFUWSS- Live Journal

 

 

 

  
            

“You want me to do what?” Napoleon Solo stood aghast, but only for a second, as what his partner was asking of him was not really unreasonable.

 It was actually quite a charitable request, but the American had been looking forward to having the Easter holiday to just relax.  He planned to take his Aunt Amy to church as well as to brunch and later a nice quiet dinner of baked ham and all the trimmings, at her penthouse. It had been a while since he’d spent some quality time with her and he was looking forward to it. Illya was of course invited, though he'd neglected to mention that to his partner.

Amy was getting on in years, and rather than her cooking, it was going to be catered. That was her decision and she wouldn’t hear otherwise, though Napoleon suspected she’d still be adding some of her own favorite dishes to the menu. Some exotic by most tastes, but since his aunt had picked up quite a few recipes in her travels, she liked to whip them up for special occasions.

 “Well then bring Aunt Amy with you. I am sure she will enjoy herself, and Claire would love to meet her, ” * Illya tried suggesting.

 “Are you kidding, her working in a soup kitchen? I hardly think so.” Napoleon cringed.

 His aunt was a tough but cultured woman who’d traveled much of the world on her own after he husband had died. She never remarried and was very well off with what he left her and what she’d carefully invested over the years...but working in a soup kitchen, no, he just couldn’t picture that.

 “Napoleon, do not assume. Your Aunt is a woman made of sturdy stock and she has a good and generous heart. All you can do is ask her, what is the worst thing that can happen? She could say no, or she just might say yes.”

 “Fine, I’ll ask her then...no wait, why should I? Why can’t we just have a nice peaceful dinner at her place? You’re invited you know. She requested your presence.”

 Illya looked at his partner, his eyes filled with disappointment. “I am flattered but Napoleon, seriously?”

 The Russian clicked his tongue, his face a mix of sternness and disappointment.

 That look filled Solo with remorse of course and he chastised himself for being selfish in his thinking.

 “Okay, you’ve laid a guilt trip on me. Fine I’ll call her,” he picked up the telephone receiver, requesting an outside line.

 Ten minutes later it was decided, they’d be spending Easter Sunday at the Bowery Mission soup kitchen.  Amy was delighted at her nephew’s charitable suggestion, but Napoleon couldn’t lie to his aunt, and he told her it was Illya’s idea.

 “Bless his little Soviet heart,” she laughed,”there’s hope for that boy yet.”

 The plans were set; Napoleon would pick up his aunt and take her to mass at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. They’d forego the Easter parade, watching hundreds of people bedecked in their Spring finery strolling up and down Fifth Ave.

 That sort of silliness didn’t appeal to Amy; looking at some of the women and their ridiculous over-sized chapeaus filled with bunnies, feathers and other Easter symbols were pure nonsense to her. There was no need for such display to celebrate the Christ risen and the renewal that Easter symbolized.

 “Good!” Illya smiled,”I told you Amy would not be adverse to the idea of helping out in a soup kitchen. Now you and I have some busy work to do.”

 Napoleon grimaced, suspecting he was in for trouble.

 “What now?” He cautiously asked.

 “Well, we need to decorate some eggs for the children who will be at the soup kitchen. I promised Claire we would take care of that.. Nothing fancy, you can just dye them...I will be doing some Russian style Pysanky, you remember like the egg I gave you for Easter when I was first in this country.*

 That brought a smile to Napoleon’s lips, as it was the first time Illya had opened up just a little bit to him, even if it was just about an Easter tradition from his past.  He had to admit now for his partner to be so focused on helping out at a soup kitchen and painting eggs for children...well the Russian had come a long way since they’d first met.

 “Hmm, ‘we’ tovarisch?” Sounds like you just knew I was going to do this didn’t you?”

 llya said nothing and went about working at catching up with his paperwork. “I suggest you do the same,” he reminded his partner.

 

 Their desks were cleared and together Solo and Kuryakin headed home, sharing a taxi to their apartment buildinv as Illya didn’t want to walk as time was of the essence in getting the eggs ready.

 Napoleon went upstairs to his own place to shower and change into more casual clothing, and when ready, he let himself into Illya’s apartment with his key.

 His jaw dropped when he saw the trays of eggs piled everywhere.

 Illya walked out of the kitchen carrying bowls of different  food color dyes, putting them on his dining table that he’d covered with newspapers.  
  
"We must work quickly, as the eggs were just delivered."

 “And how many are we supposed to do?” Solo finally asked.

 “Oh fifty or so, not that many,” Illya shrugged.

 “Well I don’t know about that,” the American said, seating himself at the table. He picked up an egg, examining it. “These aren’t raw are they?”

 “They are. We need to blow out the eggs before we dye them, though I suppose we can hard boil some of them. The rest we will refrigerate and the mission will use to make scrambled eggs tomorrow for breakfast. I will be painting the outside of a few of them...only a dozen or so as it will take too long. First there is a coating of black, then a multicolor floral design, and once dried a layer of lacquer. These are different from the Pysanky I gave you years ago as I realized  that style is too intricate and time consuming to make in such a short period of time.”

 “Tell me, when did you find out about all this?” Napoleon got up, getting his bottle of scotch from the cabinet, a pair of glasses and finally the bottle of vodka the Russian kept in the freezer.

 “A little over a week ago, just before we left for San José.”

 “And you waited until the day before Easter to lay this on me?”

 “If you recall a week ago we were winging our way back and forth between Costa Rica and Mexico, chasing and being chased by enemy agents and nearly eaten alive by a twelve foot crocodile. Dyeing Easter eggs was hardly on my mind at the time.”

 “True, but you could have at least given me a heads up anyway. I might have gotten us a little help, perhaps some of the girls from the secretarial pool would have volunteered.”

 Illya gave him the stink eye. “Right, and I know what you would have ended up doing instead of dyeing eggs. Now please no more chatter, and get to work. Time is short. He poured a drink for himself and one for Napoleon as a peace offering.

 “Yes sir, right away sir.” Napoleon raised his right hand in a salute, still holding one of the eggs. Somehow he hit his forehead with it; the egg unexpectedly cracking and splattering in his face.

 Illya burst out in a huge belly laugh, but that was halted when he was hit right in the kisser with a raw egg, hurtled by his partner.

 “Hey chum...the yolks on you!” Napoleon laughed back at him.

 One hurled egg led to another and by the time they were done, there were perhaps a few dozen eggs left and a mess in the Russian’s apartment.

 After too many rounds of drinks, the remaining eggs were hard boiled and dyed rather haphazardly in more of a tie-dyed fashion. Still they were nice and colorful and the children would enjoy them regardless regardless of the fact they'd been done by two slightly drunken friends. The finished eggs were safely put back in their trays and into the Russian's refrigerator. 

  
The two men continued to drink into the night, regaling each other with their stories about when they did battle with the Easter confection known as ‘Peeps,” trying to disprove the question of their indestructibility. **  
  
Napoleon and Illya passed out sometime during the wee hours and Kuryakin being the first one to wake the next morning, looked at the carnage of broken eggs and yolks that were everywhere.

He called his partner to consciousness, not to help clean up the mess but to find a store still open to replace the eggs they’d broken and get them dyed as well as enough eggs for the morning breakfast at the mission...there’d be no time to blow out the yolks.  
  
Not an easy task on Easter morning, but somehow they succeeded in their mission; dyed the new batch of eggs that actually turned out much nicer than the others, since the fearless agents were sober when these were done, though slightly hungover.

 All the eggs were delivered in time to the mission, and the partners returned to Illya’s apartment to scrub down the floors and walls. They worked up quite a sweat, needing a great deal of elbow grease to complete the task.

 “Never again,” Solo swore.

 “What is that? Throwing raw eggs at me?"

 “No, doing you a favor. Next time I hear those words from you I’m running away from you..”

 “Remember it works both ways my friend. Just think twice next time you need a report typed for you.”

 “That’s blackmail.”

 “Yes it is,” Illya smiled.

 “Sneaky Russian.”

 “Yes I am. Remember...I am a spy after all."

 Illya reached into his pocket, tossing a brightly decorated egg to his partner.

 “Here, another to add to your collection,” Illya smiled. It was handpainted, red with colorful flowers, and from the looks of it, it had not been done with the steadiest of hands, still the detail on it was beautiful.   
  
   
  
“Wow, thanks tovarisch, I’ll treasure it,” Solo smiled.

“Here, this is for you.” Napoleon lobbed a package of yellow "Peeps" across the table; Illya catching it with ease though he was relieved it wasn’t another raw egg.

“Thank you!” The Russian chuckled, “I will enjoy simply eating these my friend, and no more experiments...especially with vodka.”**

  
  


“Whoa, look at the time,” Napoleon said. “I need to get cleaned up and go get my best girl. I’ll see you later at the Mission chum.”

“Yes, I look forward to it. Claire said she will have a nice table set up in the office so we may all enjoy dinner with your Aunt Amy once we are done serving the meals at the soup kitchen.  
  
The two men looked at each other with a twinkle in their eyes.

 “Happy Easter,” Illya and Napoleon both wished at the same time; shaking each others hand…

 

* ref “I’ll be the proudest fellow

** ref “There are chicks and then there are ‘chicks’  
  
A/N: Claire is an OC from my "Bowery Mission" stories, director of the soup kitchen and Illya's friend

 

 


End file.
